


Tyrell's Café

by sillyboyblue



Category: Blade Runner (1982)
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, M/M, Meet-Cute, coffee shop AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-19
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2018-09-09 16:22:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8899147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sillyboyblue/pseuds/sillyboyblue
Summary: "The cutest, cheesiest coffee shop meet-cute for Roy Batty/Rick Deckard"Bryant had told Deckard to drop by Tyrell's Café someday, so he did.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tamatoa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tamatoa/gifts).



Bryant had told Deckard to drop by the Tyrell Café someday, so he did.

The first time he went was on a Tuesday.

The place looked like a castle. Tall gray stone walls, black tile floor and imposing pillars supporting the structure. The room was bathed in a sunset-like light coming from small ceiling lights. It was quiet, something Deckard was thankful for since he had had a stressful day.

He sat at a small round table with two chairs and looked through the window at the passers-by hastening under fat raindrops crashing lazily against umbrellas.

He was brought out of his reverie by what had to be the most beautiful voice he had ever heard.

“Have you made your choice, sir ?”

The waiter was one of the finest creatures that Deckard ever had the chance of laying his eyes on.

He was tall and broad, built like a strongman. It was especially his hands that caught Deckard's attention. Big rough hands, not those of someone who works in a café for a living. The man looked more like a brawler than a waiter.

Yet there was something soft and delicate about his attitude and the way he was holding his body. He could have been a model. He was wearing a white shirt with a black vest, black pants, black leather shoes and a black bowtie. The outfit may have appeared simple but Deckard could tell that the fabric was of the finest quality.

The waiter had a slight tan that he could not possibly have gotten while staying in Los Angeles. His hair was white as snow and his eyes were a shade of blue that Deckard had never seen before. 

Deckard forgot where he was for what felt like eternity but was actually only a fleeting instant.

"I'll have an Irish Coffee, please."

Deckard wanted to hold the beautiful waiter back. Please, let me look at you for longer.

But he was gone in a blink of the eye, and Deckard was alone again.

Deckard longed for him to come back already so that he could admire him some more. His eyes were fixed on the counter behind which all the other waiters were busying themselves. He got an idea.

The waiter was back soon enough with Deckard's order in his hand. 

"Do you mind if I move to the counter ?" Deckard asked and the waiter smiled the most charming smile that the blade runner had ever seen. 

"Of course not, sir. Follow me, please."

Deckard stared at the waiter while sipping his drink. Was he being a creep ? Maybe. He had never seen a man so perfect in his life. 

He gazed at him working around, taking orders, bringing drinks, handing out checks, taking payments, accepting tips.

He was always kind and polite to all customers and never made any mistake. He was made for this job. 

The word "programmed" popped in Deckard's head. He finished his Irish Coffee and gestured for the waiter to come over. His heart leapt with joy when their fingers brushed as he handed him a generous tip and it appeared that the waiter's did too.

"I'll be back."

Only when Deckard left did he realize that he did not even know the waiter's name. One more reason to come back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://dragontameart.tumblr.com/post/162541945272/a-little-something-for-sillyb0yblue-for-their-fan


	2. Chapter 2

Deckard returned to Tyrell's Café the bext day. He swore that the cute white-haired waiter smiled at him when he pushed the door open. 

He sat at the counter and ordered an Irish Coffee.

"Let me take your coat." said the waiter, and Deckard got goose-bumps at the sound of his voice. "It's soaked."

Deckard let the waiter take off his coat slowly, as if he was enjoying the moment as much as him. He could not tell whether the blue-eyed beauty was playing with him or not. He had never been confused with women, so why should it be different with a man ?

To Deckard's surprise, the waiter lingered by his side.

"Is it cold outside ?" 

Deckard took a sip from his drink while drowning in the waiter's eyes.

"Freezing. It should be snowing soon."

The waiter was obviously looking for an excuse to stay with Deckard, so he began washing some glasses.

"I've never seen snow."

There were way too many waiters for the amount of customers. This waiter could stay with his customer.

"Are you new here ?"

The waiter must have found the question absurd because he chuckled.

"You could say that."

Silence fell between the two as Deckard finished his coffee. He ordered another one just to stay here. He thought it was time to make a move. Now or never.

"Do you have plans for the weekend ?"

The waiter seemed surprised that someone would ask about that, let alone care.

"For Christmas ?"

Deckard nodded, encouraging him to speak.

"No. What about you ?"

This waiter sounded like a lonely man. This could be Deckard's chance.

"Me neither."

He took another sip and gathered his courage.

"I was thinking, we could spend some time together, learn to know each other. Do you have any days off ?"

The whole situation seemed to greatly amuse the waiter.

"I can arrange that."

Hope bloomed in Deckard's heart as he finished his drink.

"You got a pen ?"

Their fingers brushed again when the waiter handed Deckard an elegant black pen and the card of the café. Deckard scribbled on the piece of paper and gave it back to his future date -- it was a date, was it not ?

"Here's my name and my number."

The waiter's face lit up like a kid's on Christmas day. He held the card close to his heart and his bright blue eyes shone like stars. Deckard got up from his seat and the waiter helped him put his coat on. He was about to leave when he leaned closer and whispered.

"May I have your name ?"

Deckard swore he could see a slight blush creeping up the waiter's cheeks as he whispered.

"It's Roy."

Deckard gave Roy another tip and purposefully let his fingers brush against his.

"Call me, Roy."

Roy gave Rick a quick peck on the cheek and pocketed the money.

"I will, Rick."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not really know where to go with this story, but I was going to reveal that Roy is a replicant like every person who work in the café.
> 
> If you want to read about Rick and Roy celebrating Christmas together, you can check out my other stories, "Christmas" and "Popcorn Threaded On A String".


End file.
